Six Months in Denver

The leaves are changing. I have watched the little elm tree outside my office window transition from bright green leaves into a deep red orange hue. When I first arrived in Denver, the last snow fall of the spring happened. I was happy to be here to witness the gentle flakes as they fell through the sunlight. It was different, unique and altogether strange. Life looked different to me six months ago. The summer here was nice. It was never too hot to enjoy the outdoors and I could finally sleep with the windows open at night!

I have transitioned well. It only took me 6 months to feel settled, to make friends, to explore, to leave behind all of the things that didn't have a heart, that didn't serve me well. I have realized the importance of letting go, so as to embrace the good things that come when a window is opened.  And I have learned that getting to a place that feels good, often doesn't feel so good while you are on the journey, but if you’re patient and wait for the “stuff” to flush out, it begins to feel better and better every day. A clearer picture will emerge, things will start to make sense and the life you have chosen will become more of what you needed than you ever realized it would.

Three Weeks Amongst Mountains

It's hard to believe I am going on my fourth week here in Denver. I finally took that short trip to Boulder. I forgot my camera like an idiot but most of the trip was to just see the mountains up close and do some scouting of this area. I discovered that I loved the little city and will definitely be back often. It is a quaint place, nestled right at the foothills of the mountains; It was very charming and not as overwhelming as downtown Denver. A lot less people, cars and more walkable. It made me get back on my Vespa kick. I feel like I am finally settling into this place. Well, almost.

My place is still naked as a window. But still, I'd take all that nothing over nothing at all.

Transitioning in Denver

You know that feeling you have when you’re 7 years old, staring down at a bowl of cold, sticky, flavorless oatmeal. It unrelentingly stares back at you. You know in your heart of hearts that it is not only healthy and good for you, but the only breakfast you are going to be able to eat this morning.

(Maybe you don't understand my relationship with oatmeal, but my Grandfather used to make oatmeal for me when I was a kid.  Without digressing too much, he just threw oats in water. That was IT).

And so you force it down. With every dreadful spoon, you tell yourself, “This is good for me… I should appreciate this, other kids are starving.. This is all I’m going to have to eat until lunchtime.” And even though you know these things, it still doesn’t make the oatmeal taste any better. It would have been nice to at least have a choice, right? Maybe even a little honey to make it taste better?

So here I am.

Day 7 in a hotel room in Denver, Colorado. A beautiful place. A healthy decision, the right decision, the only choice I really had; wishing for a sense of relief, my ‘honey’ in all of this gooey, uncomfortable oatmeal.

On my second day in Denver, I decided to venture out into the downtown area. I was still very tired from the 13-hour drive the day and night before. I shouldn’t have been driving around in those tight neighborhood streets filled with cars, bicyclists and pedestrians, but I was excited, curious and had to see what downtown Denver was all about.  I drove around for awhile and just about the time I decided it was time to head back to the hotel, I hit a curb and blew out a tire. Not only did I blow the tire out in a residential neighborhood, I also bent the rim. I got out of the car and assessed the damage. It looked like total shit. I was tired and dumbfounded. Without thinking too much, I opened up the back of the car and took the jack out. I had no choice but to forge ahead. I think I had hoped for someone to help me out a little on this one but after about 30 minutes of me jacking up the car and fumbling with the tire, I realized I was nothing more than a pitiful spectacle with Texas plates.  People rode, walked and drove by looking, but not a single person asked me if I needed help. Honestly, I don’t hold it against them. But it was such a clear moment for me to acknowledge my decision to be totally alone in an unfamiliar city without so much as a AAA membership.  I replaced the tire on my own and felt accomplished, however, I could have done without the cold Denver welcome.

On the better side...

Work has been great. My co-workers are amazing individuals, kind and friendly. I love my office and the company has been so welcoming. Besides my first few weird experiences here, everything is really, really wonderful. I am optimistic and ready for whatever is put in front of me.

This is what I wanted and needed. I am grateful for everything I have been given. Even the hard lessons. The transition isn’t going to be easy, though. Everything that needed to surface is surfacing. When we find ourselves alone like this it can be quite beautiful and painful. Our safety net is gone and we are pretty vulnerable. It’s a great time for introspection and letting go but it’s also a moment of great heights.

I had a breakdown the other night after tire #2 went flat. I looked at my car in despair: donut on the front, squished flat tire on the back, boxes in the back seat and my life in a hotel room in a strange city with nothing but unfamiliar streets and people. Weird. I was so happy to have Pickles here with me. I wonder if she knows how much she is my saving grace. She is my “Wilson” right now on this island

Denver calls.

Today I find myself more pensive than ever as I think about my future in a new city, a new job, a new home, a new life. This is what I wanted, right? Days away from my departure, there's a huge part of me that doesn't want to go. But it's the inner voice in me that says "I know it's going to be hard, but you'll be fine". Leaving this city, my family, friends and my wonderful studio and projects behind is going to be a sacrifice. But it's one that I know I have to make, for me. I know that the outcome is going to be good.

Life is a series of moments where we let go. Sometimes, that letting go also means to embrace change, whether it's the change in our surroundings or the change within our selves.